Better Abstract Than Concrete

What is the best way to pay tribute to victims of a tragedy?

To Malibu artist Arlene Waxman, it was assembling charred and twisted remnants from the Green Meadows fire of 1993 into a 39-by-30-by-12-foot sculpture.

But to Thousand Oaks City Council members Andy Fox and Mike Markey, that seemed disrespectful. Both voted against allowing the sculpture to go on display in their city.

“A lot of people lost their homes, and a lot of people spent a lot of time in the burn ward,” said Fox, a captain with the Los Angeles Fire Department. “It would be like building a piece of art out of the Oklahoma federal building.”

Said Markey, a former Compton police officer, “Thinking back to the riots of 1992, I would be offended if there was an artwork on that.”

They are wrong, of course, as their colleagues quickly noted while voting 3 to 2 to welcome the piece to Thousand Oaks. Much of our greatest art has been rooted in sorrow and loss. Conversely, the creations of artists, poets, composers and playwrights have long helped us endure and rise above emotional trauma.

Think of the powerful artworks inspired by the Holocaust or the Crucifixion or, yes, the Oklahoma City bombing and the L.A. riots. Two of the most deeply moving artworks of our time--the Vietnam memorial and the AIDS quilt--draw their power from our shared sense of loss and frustration.

But what is the best way to pay tribute to victims of a tragedy like a Southern California wildfire or the Central Valley floods?

For elected officials such as Fox and Markey and their peers all over the state, it might be to vote no on future requests to build houses in canyons and flood plains where future disasters are not only predictable, but inevitable.